Oh dear. It’s Mike’s turn for the hangover today. He’s been very sensible about alcohol so far this trip, but last night, although he didn’t seem to drink much, he had Jutta’s rum punch which is totally lethal. He’s OK until he tries to eat some breakfast, then it all turns very nasty. I’m sympathetic to his plight but there’s only half an hour of internet left and I try to make the most of it before it disappears so I just shout encouraging words as he flies through the cabin and into the bathroom for the third time.
Once the internet goes I start putting things away as far as we ever do for a passage and just potter around getting ready until Mike is in a fit state to go and pay our marina bill. The electricity meter reading is exactly the same as when we arrived and the woman looks at us suspiciously as if we have tampered with it, before reluctantly having to let us off, then we walk along the beach for the last time.
We really sadly say goodbye to Marie-Anne, Matthieu, Ferdinand and Marguerite from Noeluna, and Marie and Charles from Dreamcatcher.
Once the last round of goodbyes are done and dusted, we start to pull the anchor up and as people on the dock let our stern lines go we gently pull forward out of our mooring position and into the very tight channel. Once out of the marina, we have nearly 40 minutes of wandering around inside the reef waiting for the other boats to come out and for the next leg to begin at 11 am.
I hate the jiggling around near the start line as the boats gets so close at times. Mike is in no fit state to mess around either so we stay well out of the way, only bothering to get the genoa out once the horn has sounded. Deliberately and for the first time, we manage to be last over the start line.
The committee boat has many of the crew members that are leaving on it and we all wave goodbye and we head to Vanuatu and they head back to Musket Cove. A pilot boat leads the fleet through most of the reefs then turns and heads back in, followed shortly by Thor VI when Rui and Anna realise they have left their dinghy tied to the dock!
Inside the reef the sea is calm and relatively smooth, but as we leave its protection, the situation changes dramatically. The seas are as bad as I have ever seen them. Huge waves crash sideways over the whole boat, completely drenching the cockpit time and time again and completely undoing all the hard work Mike and I put into cleaning the bloody thing.
These are not the seas to sail when you have a screaming hangover and it’s not long before Mike’s head is once again down the toilet (it’s far to rough to go anywhere near the side of the boat). I start to feel very sea sick and lie down quickly in the salon. Once the boats have all separated and it’s safe to do so, Mike joins me in the salon, and that’s where the two of us stay all day, pathetically, taking it in turns to get up every 15 minutes when the alarm goes off, to check the instruments and the horizon.
The next 6 or 7 hours are excruciating, sailing at its worst as far as I am concerned. We can’t sleep as the crashing and groaning of the boat is horrendous. Jeannius is pitched around the sea like a cork and walking anywhere requires you to cling on to anything you can to save you from being thrown. Lying down is much safer.
Neither of us is in a fit state to manage a four hour watch so we do three hours on, three hours off instead, with me taking the first one. Thank goodness that by early evening the sea has calmed down enough for me to sit and watch a film, but this could still be a long night!
Just to cap off the day, when Mike goes below for a wash and turns the tap on, no water comes out. Great. Now the water pump has failed and it’s less than one year old. We have a full tank of water and no way of getting it out. We both look at each other. The look says it all. F***ing boats! Mike will look at it tomorrow.
Our position is: 18 deg 05 min S, 175 deg 45 min E
Distance so far: 8815 nautical miles
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